All That Glitters Is Gold|| Sam ²
Torn between the rainbow glitter pack and the hot pink, Sam decided so splurge and buy both (at the Bargain Market, as true to its title as could be, both cost her a whopping $2.00). As she left the shop, bag tucked under her arm, she thought of the burned out camera on her laptop, the internet connection in her apartment that barely kept Skype running, and she grinned. She’d say it wasn’t every day that you found yourself in a video-chat with one of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes (or whatever it was they were calling themselves these days), but she’d be lying--in this city, running into a “super” was like running into oxygen, even for someone like Sam (someone, that is, who was crossing the street in an oversized sweatshirt she’d bought in high school, hardly had a dollar to her name, and had no super skills to speak of.) Still, Falcon was one of a kind--even if he did steal her name.
(And a name was a reporter’s bread and butter--the first names were sort of a toss up, but together it had to sound good, had to sound important, a byline that hinted at the story to come: Samantha Ashford, Important Shit. Or, well, something along those lines. Anything was better than “General News”).
Entering Esther’s coffee house, Sam scanned the shop until she spotted Sam Wilson’s tall form in the corner. She grinned, a skip in her step as she crossed the floor and pulled up the chair across from him. “That guy’s almost as cute,” she said, pointing a thumb over her shoulder at a hipster looking dude by the front tables--expensive hair, sweater in the summer, board shorts, the whole-shebang. “I almost couldn’t find you, Sam.” She waited to order a coffee then, the second she was finished, slammed the two glitter tubes onto the table with all the force she could muster. “You got the stuff?”
